


is your bedroom ceiling bored

by allwedontdo



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotionally Repressed, First Meetings, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, My First Work in This Fandom, Pining, heatwaves took me out and i will never recover, i cannot wrap my head around how minecraft works but im obsessed with the dream team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29049231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allwedontdo/pseuds/allwedontdo
Summary: George turned and looked in the direction of the palm tree that Clay was watching, smiling softly. “I spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling too. Hoping, I think.”Their voices were so soft, being spoken into the humidity and wrapping their meanings tightly around each other, truly having found their way long before Clay and George had. “Do you ever get bored? Or tired? Of just staring and hoping?” George looked at Clay and then the car, noticing how clean it was even with a water bottle or two floating around the bottom. He looked up at the house, thinking about all of the real, material things that existed inside of it. Even though Clay had a room dedicated to the things his fans sent him, there were still a few pieces that made its way front and center in the main rooms of the house. It was all inconceivably him. Dream. Clay.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	1. good burger

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is my first dnf fic and i have been writing it for like a week now. the title is from a song that my friend showed me and inspired a few conversations that george and dream have.
> 
> pls be kind to the content creators and never force anything into their faces, their streams, chats, comments, etc <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I miss you,” he breathed out, eyes shutting as he sunk into his desk chair.
> 
> A momentary pause overtook both of them then, neither of them really knowing what to say. George just tilted his head in confusion. “I’m right here, Clay.”
> 
> “You’re not. You’re not here.” Dream missed him in a way that wasn’t plausible. He had never met the man in real life, in the flesh, but somehow he missed him even when he was right there speaking to him.

Dream had to push down the absolute wreck of a lump in his throat when he read George’s message. He felt like he was on fire, which wasn’t unusual during a late Florida June, but something about the way that his heart started racing made Dream stutter in his footing. He sucked in a breath to ease the lump and balled his hand that wasn’t holding his phone into a tight fist. His body leaned partially against the support pole at the bottom of the airport’s escalators to hold himself up.

George was going to be standing in front of him in a matter of moments, passing by in 60 seconds at most.

_Just grabbed my bag :)_

The baggage carousels were on the floor directly above where Dream was waiting, just at the top of the escalators.

Dream didn’t understand at first why he was so nervous, his palms sweating like crazy. He thought the first time he met his best friend face to face, he would be ecstatic. He expected himself to pounce onto George’s shoulders with laughter bubbling out from his throat, even messing with George’s hair before throwing his arm across his shoulder like he had always treated Sapnap when he came to visit.

He supposes the difference is because he’s known Sapnap the longest and has met him. George, no matter how long they had known each other, was new. The pressure had only started when he sat down in his car, readying himself to drive to pick George up. Suddenly, he didn’t feel like he was picking up his best friend from the airport. Suddenly he was picking up _George_ , which somehow felt like two very different entities.

His vision, at this point, was almost blurring with anxiety, watching the escalators like a hawk because he did _not_ want to miss the moment George stepped onto the moving staircase nor the moment that George saw him for the very first time.

With strained eyes, trying not to blink too often, Dream saw the black hair pop into view.

George was wearing a white hoodie, Dream’s avatar smiling at him from all the way over where he was standing. He could just barely see the hoodie’s strings, one falling loosely over George’s chest, the other stuck between George’s teeth.

Dream swore he could’ve woken up at any moment, seeing something so completely real and yet so ethereal heading towards him. He blinked against his better judgement and looked down at his phone, feeling like he should capture this moment when another message appeared.

_I see you._

Dream looked back up, a grin plastered so far across his cheeks he was worried his muscles would give out. He decided to wear his own chartreuse merchandise so that Geroge could easily identify him when he got off the plane. He had more than enough anxiety about George seeing him for the first time that he needed it to just be obvious. 

Dream watched and George weaved through a few slow passerbys and soon was striding towards him, their eyes locked.

“George-“ Dream spoke only for himself before he was crushed into an embrace by his best friend in the entire universe. Over George’s shoulder, he saw the rolling suitcase had been left behind almost a full five feet away from where they were.

Where they were.

They.

_Together._

Dream could only nestle his face into George’s neck, having to lean over slightly to hug the older but shorter boy back.

He focused on his hands first, where the fabric of the hoodie remained underneath them. He pressed his palms into it, feeling George’s tangible existence beneath. His mind strayed to George’s hands, pressed in the same position on his own spine and shoulder blades, feeling each individual finger against his own thin shirt. It felt like flames. When his mind traveled to the way their chests were pressed together, Dream felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“You’re like-“ He started, whispering softly against the man’s skin. “You’re real, George.” This statement caused George to tighten his grip on Dream’s body. While he loved this- loved this _feeling_ more than he felt able to admit, he pushed George away, hands retracting from his back and gripping George’s shoulders. He held him at arm's length. “Let me look at you.”

George had a smile so deep, Dream felt blinded. He felt the fire from a mere minute prior reignite in his chest. His breath was shaky as his eyes scanned over the English citizen in front of him. He squeezed his shoulders, thumbs tracing along the matter beneath. He was so _fucking_ real.

“You’re such an idiot. I should be saying that to you now that I’m _finally_ seeing _you_.” George’s voice was casual but soft, emphasizing words that made Dream’s fire crackle. Dream let out a deep chuckle, smothering his fire and letting his eyes drift over all of George’s features. “Fuck,” His best friend said before slipping out from under Dream’s hands so he could go and grab his suitcase that he had left behind in his rush to hold Dream.

“Ready to get scorched by Floridian fire for the next month?” Dream asked, reaching out and draping his arm over George’s shoulder when he returned to his side, attempting to regain his composure. George was _here._

“Not in the slightest.”

* * *

It felt unreal. Unreal that George was there, standing in Dream’s _house,_ setting up his things for his month long stay in Dream’s spare room, just across from his own. Dream kept peeking into the room as George stuffed clothes into the dresser, still in Dream’s merchandise even if it had been close to 100°F outside. Dream was making them dinner, grilling burgers on his grill just outside his patio door, and baking homemade french fries in his oven. He wasn’t a chef in any way, but he was competent and felt the need to do this for George on his first night in the United States. It was in between flipping the burgers and checking on the fries that he would lean against the door frame of George’s room, asking him if he needed anything, what he wanted to drink, or just watching.

Dream was worried that if he left George alone for too long, his existence would dissolve and Dream would remember how alone it is in his house. He wasn’t sure how he was going to have to hear George’s voice over a crackling speaker again now that he’s heard it for real.

The fourth time that Dream stopped by his room, George didn’t even turn around before shaking his head and saying, “You know you don’t need to supervise me.”

Dream laughed and threw his head back against the doorframe. “Sorry. Just-“ He drew in a breath and let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m not going to vanish, Dream.” He turned around and moved his suitcase into the closet, actually having completed the temporary move, and leaned against the bed to face Dream. “I’m here.”

Dream stared at him for a few moments, both of them watching each other in a comfortable quiet. He reached up and pressed his hand into the back of his neck. It was hot. “You know,” Dream started, unsure. “You can call me Clay here.” George just looked at him and the side of his mouth quirked up into a small smile.

He pushed himself off of the bed and stood close to his friend. “Okay, Clay. If that’s what you want.”

 _Yes_ . That’s exactly what he wanted. The word was so minuscule, but his name dripping from George’s lips was enough to make Dream want to loll his head back to just take in how its sounded from _him_. He resisted this temptation, shoving down thoughts that he buried years ago, only ever resurfacing the rare times that George says his name during streams. Dream blinks. It just sounds so-

George interrupts Dream’s impermissible thoughts with a swift, “What’s for dinner?” and slides past his body in the door frame to pad to the kitchen, a hand sliding across his shoulder for only a moment as he passed.

_Fuck._

“Burgers and fries. All homemade,” Dream responds, turning after a moment of recalibration to follow the other man into the kitchen.

“Wow, Clay. You really know how to treat a lady,” he teases, popping up onto a barstool that sat on the opposite side of the kitchen sink. Dream falters in his steps, tripping over his feet subtly, and shakes his head.

He couldn’t stop thinking now about how intimate it feels to be called by his name and to be making a full dinner for his friend. Everything suddenly felt special and he wasn’t sure if his subconscious planned it this exact way or if he was now overthinking their friendship.

Two years ago, Dream had stayed up late with George and Sapnap, talking about new coding concepts and messing around in their virtual world together. It wasn’t until that day, the moment that Sapnap signed off to go to bed sometime before 9pm for them (he had work at 5am), that Dream knew something inside him felt off. A lot of the time when one of them signed off, they all would. It was what was just natural for the three of them unless the other two had something to finish

That night, a crisp 3am for George, they both stayed on their Discord call. It was silent at first, nothing really to say after they had finally figured out their next game plan.

George spoke first, asking, “Do you see the moon?”

Dream leaned over to the wall on his right and peeled through his blinds. It had been dark for many hours, the winter season causing the days to be much shorter. “Mhm,” He responded, seeing a fingernail shape just through the leafless tree outside his window.

“Me too.”

It was a simple exchange, a silent understanding that they were staring at the same shape in the sky, even if thousands of miles apart. Dream’s chest tightened, feeling crushed that his best friend wasn’t just a minute down the road. He had a sudden rush of emotion that he hadn’t had a very long time and his demeanor began to tremble.

George must’ve heard a change in his breathing because he then asked, “Are you okay?” Dream wanted to nod, in fact he started to, staring at the sliver of white in the black expanse above him, but then he changed directions and shook his head, not fully aware that George couldn’t see these actions.

“I miss you,” he breathed out, eyes shutting as he sunk into his desk chair.

A momentary pause overtook both of them then, neither of them really knowing what to say. George just tilted his head in confusion, his voice sounding warm in his Mic. “I’m right here, Clay.”

“You’re not. You’re not _here_ .” Dream missed him in a way that wasn’t plausible. He had never met the man in real life, in the flesh, but somehow he _missed_ him even when he was right there speaking to him.

There was a pause and George let out a shaky attempt at a laugh. It wasn’t insincere or mocking. It was grief. “I know what you mean.” Dream looked back out at the moon.

Dream grieved for the disconnect between them, no matter how emotionally close they were able to get, George just wasn’t there. He didn’t have this type of feeling with his other friends. Of course he missed Sapnap but it didn’t make his body ache and breathing sharp.

Dream realized what he wanted. He wanted to hold onto George and never let him go. He imagined what George looked like at that moment. He could visualize a soft expression across George’s features, only traces of a smile remaining and his eyes half-lidded or even shut while he listened to Dream’s voice, having both abandoned their in-game avatars awhile ago.

Before he could stop it, he visualized George’s mouth. And he visualized how it would feel pressed against his own. The thought spiraled through his mind for a few moments while they sat together and before he knew it, he felt his own fingers against his lips, tracing lightly across the pink skin that he wished was overtaken by the boy sitting in a desk all the way across the ocean.

“It’s 3am, Dream.” Still in his head, Dream’s eyes fluttered shut again, holding in the memory of George’s voice for a second before responding.

“You should sleep.”

“Mhm.”

“Goodnight George.”

“Goodnight Clay.”

Dream woke up that next morning telling himself wholeheartedly that he was not allowed to have these feelings that manifested. He was _not_ allowed to feel like this towards a boy that lived thousands of miles across an ocean who had never even seen his face before. He couldn’t, in good conscience allow himself to fall apart under the fingertips of his best friend.

And he pushed them down, so hard that he almost had forgotten them. Every time that George called him by his first name during a phone call or a livestream, he felt a twinge at his heart that showed him that George saw him as real. He wasn’t just Dream, a personality that existed solely through a computer screen. To George, he was _Clay_. It was the only moment that he consciously allowed himself to think of George as more. And he wondered constantly if George, in some way, knew what he was doing to him. Just for a moment did he allow the thought.

Here, with George standing in front of Dream- _Clay_ \- he felt everything rushing back to him in an instant.

He had wanted to pull George through his screen and kiss him then but he couldn’t. Not mentally and certainly not physically. But here he was in the flesh, standing in Clay’s kitchen. He could do it. He could take the leap.

“Wait, bro. The fries look actually heavenly. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

_One day._

* * *

After dinner, George insisted on helping him wash dishes and box up any leftovers. Clay tried to push him towards the couch, wanting him to relax and pick a movie for them to watch so that George could wind down and be ready for bed at the correct time to fix his jet lag. George wouldn’t budge, saying, “After all these years, I want to spend as much time by your side that I can.”

Clay melted under those words, pulled directly from the English language and thrown together into a meaning that caused Clay aching in his chest, and allowed him to dry the dishes that he washed. It felt so domestic, guiding him to where each item was stored in his cabinets. It felt so domestic that Clay could barely handle it, trying not to watch him for too long in order to maintain his own sanity. “What movie do you want to watch?” George asked after a while of cleaning, popping a cold fry from the Tupperware that he was placing into the fridge.

“I don’t know. I don’t particularly mind. I’ll just wipe the table off if you want to go scroll though Netflix or the DVD cabinet to the left of the TV.” George hummed in agreement and left the kitchen, leaving Clay to lean against the countertop to steady himself. “Fuck,” he whispered. If seeing him was all it took for Clay to completely come unwound, he wasn’t sure how he was going to get through the next three and a half weeks with George at his side. He was grateful, sure, but that leap of faith just sounds more and more daunting. With a quick inhale, Clay stood up straight and wiped down the table and counters quickly, aching to be back in George’s presence.

George chose _Good Burger_ , a 90s movie from Nickelodeon that Clay mentioned a few times in their long friendship. He had never seen it but it looked funny enough to make time to watch. George sat on one side of the couch and Clay scanned his living room, trying to decide what seat would be the best, not too close, but not awkwardly far away. He settled for the opposite end of the couch, deciding that the recliner built into that portion of his sofa would suffice. “Are you good with this movie?” George asked, handing the remote over to his best friend, who waved it away.

“Yeah, this is great.”

“Awesome. I know you had referenced it once or twice but I never got it in the UK, so I’m a little upset that I’ve never seen it.”

Clay grinned back at him and let George start the movie. “I haven’t seen it in a really long time so I suppose I can’t vouch for how good the content is anymore, but when I was a kid, I thought it was hilarious.”

George shrugged and turned the volume up slightly. “That’s good enough for me.”

They sat in silence, watching the characters move across the screen in pixelated static. Clay almost wished that they could just sit and talk instead of sitting in silence watching a movie. Sure, they talked on the way back from the airport and during dinner, but he wanted more. He wasn’t sure if that was him speaking as Dream or as Clay. Which part of him needed that substance? He stayed up all night last night, imagining the conversations they would have and things they would be able to do together while staring at his bedroom ceiling.

At some point during the movie, George leaned over on the couch, the entire side of his body resting into his cushions to show Clay the meme that Karl had texted him. Clay assumed that once he reacted to the message, George would rise and move back to where he was sitting but instead, he stayed there, resting on his elbow, just an inch away from Clay’s thigh. His body was contorted in an odd way that did not seem at all good for his back.

“That can’t be comfortable George,” he murmured.

“You’re just too far away.”

Clay’s mouth gaped and he had to hold his breath to see if he was imagining the affection oozing from George. Clay, with a bout of courage, grabbed a pillow from behind George and placed it in his lap. He patted it only twice and George immediately shifted his weight to rest his head against the pillow on Clay’s lap.

The frogs in Clay’s stomach were loud and jumping, threatening to escape through his throat, terrified of making the wrong move here. He didn’t know where to put his hands now that George took him up on his partially teasing offer. Not sure of how to approach the situation, Clay just left his arm resting across the top of the couch instead of inserting his fingers into George’s long hair that fell into his lap like he felt inclined to do. George’s arms came up and nestled at his chest, fingers brushing lightly against Clay’s thigh unintentionally, setting him ablaze. 

Kel Mitchell’s character of the same name accidentally caused a girl to fall onto the floor, in response shouting to the restaurant, “Don’t worry, her butt is okay!” George laughed at this, tapping his fingers against Clay’s thigh deliberately as he repeated the line out loud. Clay shook his head, chuckling back.

“This movie is so cheesy.” George relayed.

“It really is. What did you expect from a comedy from the nineties?” George shrugged and turned his body so he was looking directly up at Clay. Clay’s hand twitched, wanting to stroke the man's cheek or play with his hair or just touch him in general. “What are you looking at me for?”

He shrugged again. “I’m just still taking you in.” George reached up and playfully poked at Clay’s cheek before letting it rest across his chest again. “It’s so weird.”

“Why?” He knew why.

“Just after so long, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you. You see me all the time and it’s just- You’re so real.”

“Yeah, I am.” George looked at him for a few more moments, looking like he wanted to say something. “What? You have a look on your face.”

“You-” George’s eyes scanned across Clay’s face, looking at his eyes, his skin, his sandy hair, taking in every aspect, trying to make up for the years he had gone unseen. “You’re a lot prettier than I imagined.” Clay stopped breathing. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do the next few weeks with every time George did anything that took his breath away. It had already happened too many times that day. His hand instinctively moved from the top of the couch to George’s hair, doing exactly what he had longed to do, slipping his fingers into his roots and stroking across the scalp. George’s eyelids shut, his lips turning upwards into a shy smile and humming delight.

“To be fair-” Clay started, a boost of confidence coming from the compliment that he was given. “I was worried that I wouldn’t live up to your expectations because I think you completely outshine me in that department.” George scoffed and opened his mouth to retaliate, but the feeling of Clay’s fingers working through his scalp stopped him. Clay took in the way George looked in that moment, completely content in the way that Clay was touching him. George just shook his head slightly and let Clay keep on going.

His other arm reached around the arm of the chair and clicked the button that began to recline his chair, feeling his legs falling asleep under the pressure of George’s head. George, not knowing what was happening, reached up and grabbed Clay’s forearm to steady himself. “Oh, sorry.” He started to shift away from his lap to give Clay the room he needed to be comfortable but Clay stopped him by removing his hand from George’s hair and resting it against his chest. It was a quick reaction, but once George froze and lowered himself back down to Clay’s lap, George realized that Clay could most likely absolutely feel his heart racing.

“It’s okay. Stay there,” Clay mumbled so softly that he wasn’t sure that it had actually come out. George’s eyes couldn’t pull away from Clay’s as he brought his hands to his friend’s on his chest. He just held it for a moment before turning his gaze back to the television set, never letting go of Clay’s hand even after the credits rolled and they just let Netflix move on to the next film, neither of them wanting to move to grab the remote that George left on the opposite end of the couch.

When George’s breathing steadied and fell asleep, Clay refused to wake him up, tipping his head back and falling asleep as well.


	2. knight bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay had his windows rolled down which meant the sun reflecting off of his skin, and music playing from the speaker which meant any lyric that came from the car stereo, also floated beautifully off of Clay’s lips and George couldn’t stop staring.

Clay woke to the sun shining through his windows, blinding him first thing in the morning. He didn’t immediately notice the absence of George under his fingertips until he heard a soft sizzling coming from the kitchen. There was a blanket draped over his lap and he looked over the counter across the room. George stood at Clay’s stove, multiple utensils and ingredients sprawled across the countertops. With a stretch, Clay got up from the couch, a few of his joints cracking as he stood. He padded over to the kitchen, George not hearing his footsteps over the sizzle of what smelled just like bacon (Clay didn’t even remember he had bacon), and hopped up onto the counter next to the stove.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Clay chuckled and let his head fall back against the cabinets, taking in the existence of George and his voice in the space that is normally full of his own or Patches’ small mews. It was a nice change. A great change, one that was so surreal that he was still confused that it was happening. His best friend was here in the  _ flesh _ .

“You didn’t have to make breakfast. We could’ve just gone out,” Clay mentioned, already having had a few places in mind for their breakfasts. He would wait to take George there, still content with the gesture.

George shrugged and moved his tongs along the bacon before moving over to the scrambled eggs, turning the burner off. “You made dinner last night. I just wanted to return the favor. And you’re letting me stay here for almost an entire month for free, Clay. It’s really the  _ least _ I could do.” Clay tilted his head and watched George work, easily slipping between finishing up the eggs, warming their toast and cooking the bacon. 

“Well, I appreciate it. I didn’t even know I had bacon. Did you raid through the whole fridge?” George let out a hum and grabbed a plate out of the cabinet, lining it with paper towel and placing the bacon over it. “And,” He started, “you spent hundreds of dollars on flights, so you do not need to be paying for anything else the entire time that you’re here.” George’s smile looked like gold.

“Oh! Okay, okay. I will be holding you to that. I can’t  _ wait _ for all of the dates you’ll take me on.” It was a joke. Clay knew that. He  _ knew _ George was joking, but his chest tightened and his brain fired to come up with  _ something _ , anything to say in response, wanting to reply back in a way he normally would but terrified that his overwhelming amount of feelings that came rushing back so quickly would give him away.

He leaned over and snatched a piece of bacon from the plate and placed the end of it just before the edge of his mouth. “If you keep this up,  _ housewife _ , I’ll just have to take you on all the dates you want.”

George just shook his head, turning away as a deep blush rose to his cheeks (something Clay pretended wasn’t actually in response to what he said because yes George got flustered sometimes but  _ what if? _ ), and snatched the piece of bacon back before Clay took a bite out of it. “I’m making breakfast sandwiches, you can’t just take things. It’ll ruin the ratio.”

“You Brits and your perfectionism.”

“You’re such an idiot. That doesn’t even make sense.” The bickering felt familiar and Clay reminisced on all the times that the two of them had teased each other like this on their servers, over TeamSpeak and Discord. Yesterday, they hadn’t done much bickering, both still in complete awe and shock of being within a tangible physical distance for the first time (Clay still was). They both had these meet ups with other people before, most recently George and Wilbur having met up for the first time, and it had been a crazy experience but nothing could compare to _DreamandGeorge_. Maybe it was their close friendship, maybe it was the hype of DreamNotFound that they had seen an uprising of within their following, but Clay knew at least part of what it was. The twisting in his stomach when he noticed that George had so many more freckles than his camera ever let on made him sure of that.

George turned the stove off completely and began delicately arranging their eggs and bacon between slices of toast. Clay expected to be handed the plate as soon as he was done but George bypassed him and walked to the kitchen table. “We’re gonna have our meal together as a family,” He joked, setting the plates down and running his hand through his still wild bed-head, which Clay wasn’t sure he could call bed-head since they couldn’t actually fall asleep in a bed. He followed the older man with a small whine but sat down anyway, still happy to be pampered with a meal like this. They ate in silence for a while and Clay was grateful that their moment on the couch the night before did not affect them in any way (at least in a negative way).

He was worried briefly that George would retreat back a bit like he did every so often when their teasing went on for too long during streams or public conversations. Sometimes when Clay took it too far, he would notice George’s icon show as deafened in the corner of Discord, muting himself and muting his friends, or he would notice the smile fading from George’s face when he had his camera on. He pulled back when he saw those things happen and tried to find where that line was that shouldn’t be touched but it was incredibly blurred a lot of the time. Sometimes George could tease right back for hours but sometimes the teasing would die within the first hour of streaming, needing a change in pace from the joking around. When that happened, they would spend the stream telling stories from their childhood, mostly to chat, instead of talking  _ to  _ each other. Those nights always filled Clay to the brim with anxiety.

He feared sometimes that George had caught on to the way his flirting morphed into genuine comments, something free of mischief, but again, he pushed that so deep that sometimes he didn’t know it was coming out. He never wanted to make George uncomfortable, even asking him multiple times before telling their fans that they didn’t care about being sexualized. He just wanted George and him to be okay and was grateful that their closeness last night wasn’t pushing it. He liked the closeness, so much now that he had allowed the admission of his feelings to himself.

“So what do you have planned for us today?” George asked, swallowing his last bite and getting up to throw his plate away and grab a glass of water.

Clay realized how little he had eaten in his dazed state. “Um, well I didn’t  _ make  _ plans, but I have a list of ideas that I’ve been writing down for awhile.” He pulled his phone from his pocket, where it had remained all last night. The battery was down to 12% so he made a mental reminder to charge it before they go anywhere. Pulling up the Notes app, he opened a page that was labeled  _ George :) _ , and started reading it. “We’ve got Go-Karts, we could drive down to Old Town Kissimmee, there's the Kennedy Space Center, shopping down at Disney Springs, Paddleboarding, and oh! Madame Tussaud’s is really cool. I definitely want to hit there sometime. Anything sound interesting yet? I’ve got more.” George was leaning against the kitchen counter and nodding, his head tilted in thought.

“If you want to go to Madame whatever, we should. I’ve heard of the one in London but never really knew what it was.”

“It’s just a wax figure museum with a whole bunch of recreations of popular movie scenes and celebrities. It’s very cool. I went with my sister when we were younger but they’ve completely swapped all of the displays since then.”

“Cool, then let’s go. Are we going to grab lunch or dinner out? Or both?”

Clay pulled up his map and searched the area that Madame Tussaud’s was located, looking around at different places in the strip that he would like to take George. “How about a late lunch and then we could treat ourselves to a big fucking dessert tonight?” George nodded triumphantly and set his water glass in the sink. “We can go whenever. I just want to get showered and charge my phone.”

“Sounds awesome. Can I take a shower too?”

“Go for it. You can use the shower right between our rooms and I’ll go to the spare. Towels are in the bathroom cabinet. You’re welcome to any of the soap in there too if you need any of it.”

“Don’t you use that three-in-one shit?” George scoffed, making his way towards the bedrooms to grab his things.

Clay turned after he swallowed his last bite as well. “You do too, asshole. Don’t try that.”

“I use two-in-one,  _ not  _ three.”

“Go slip in the shower, fucker.” George walked away with his middle finger in the air, no retaliation at his lips. Clay shakes his head at himself and stands up, muttering, “I cannot believe I use  _ three _ -in-one soap.”

* * *

“Oh my god. Wait, wait, wait. Take my picture, take my picture. I need to send this to everybody.” A vibrant smile was plastered across George’s face as he ran to crouch in front of a wax figure of Pitbull, two peace signs thrown up at his sides. “Clay, hurry.” Clay was trying his hardest not to laugh, pulling his phone camera open and getting as many angles as possible to make the photo look either badass or just plain stupid.

“You look ridiculous,” He told George, turning the device around to show the shots he had gotten.

“Uh- says the person that practically dropped to his knees over Po.” Clay tore his phone away from George at the comment over Kung Fu Panda. “Hey! I was trying to send those to myself.”

“I did not drop to my knees, I was just excited. It’s a  _ good _ movie!” Clay defended himself and reluctantly let George take the phone back, but stuck his tongue out at him anyway as they finally made their way to the exit. Thanking the ticket teller at the front entrance, they walked into the shining sun together, George crinkling his face at the brightness.

“I’m hungry,” George proclaimed in a whiny tone and already began scanning the restaurants along the strip of road they were on. Clay grabbed him by the bicep and tugged him along, only walked one block before stopping in front of a sign that read  _ Joe’s Crab Shack. _

“It’s not necessarily a Florida delicacy, but it is a really good seafood place. And I know exactly what we should get, so just trust me.”

The two sat at an outdoor table with the sun having passed to the other side of the restaurant. Both of them sat in silence for just a minute, confirming what Clay suggested of the King Crab Dinner.

Clay spoke first once they put the menus down, “So I was thinking about a new plugin. I was messing around with some different codes and functions and researching a few days ago and found that there were a lot of cool things that I didn’t even think about.” Clay went on about a few things related to their work and George let him talk, nodding along at appropriate moments and throwing in his two cents when necessary. He loved listening to Clay talk on and on about the things he was passionate about. There was a lightness about his shoulders and carelessness about his facial expressions. It was relaxing. George shut his eyes at one point and tilted his head in the small bit of sun left on their side of the building. Despite the appreciation for Clay’s rambling, he found himself after a bit feeling bored of talking about Minecraft. It felt sometimes like it was all they talked about when they were online together, despite the massive amounts of information they knew about each other. George liked that it wasn’t something they talked much about in the past 15 hours that he had been in Florida. He liked that Clay was occupied with  _ him _ and being real. Clay, a master of reading George, stopped speaking.

“Go on?” George said, more as a question, unsure if Clay was going to continue.

“You’re not listening to me.”

“I am listening.” Clay’s eyebrows stitched together, feeling almost deflated that his best friend seemed to have zero interest in his words.

He leaned back in his chair as the waitress walked over to them, taking both of their drink and meal orders as they were both prepared as soon as they walked into the establishment. When she walked away, Clay leaned back into the table. “What’s wrong?”

George contemplated not telling him the truth, just telling him that the sun was making his head spin or some realistic excuse for not paying attention to his every word. He also needed to find a way to scoot around the fact that one reason for not paying attention was George paying too much attention to tone and body movements, focusing on his visual love for the game more than the words said about it. Instead of any of this, he told that other truth, “I’m just- We always talk about Minecraft. It’s our full time job. I liked that we haven’t been focusing on it. It’s just been nice.”

Clay absorbed the words like a roll of paper towel, taking it in and holding onto it. He knew he could get completely wrapped around his work, but he did love it more than anything in the world. Well, almost.

“Okay, well what do you want to talk about then?”

“I don’t know. Something else. Something real. Like…” He trailed off to think. “Something about life.”

“Then you go first. I’ve already talked your ear off about something you clearly don’t care about.” There was a teasing tone in his voice, but George still felt like he’d been hit.

“Of course I care.”

“George,” Clay reached his hand over, coming close to George’s elbow on the table but stopping before contact was made. “I’m kidding. Completely. I know I can get intense.” George watched him for a second, taking in his demeanor and knowing that he didn’t take any of what George said to heart. He rarely did, almost nothing truly bothering him besides slander against his cat, in which he would more than likely remove you from his life for. “Here’s a question,” Clay began, settling comfortably into a new topic. “Tell me about your first kiss.” George crinkled his face again, looking at him strangely.

“Why are you asking me that?”

“I was just thinking. I told you mine and we made fun of it on stream together. You and a hundred thousand people got to make fun of it. You never told me about yours so I want to make fun of you. Tell me.” George rolled his eyes and leaned back, pressing his back into the metal design at the back of his chair.

“Clay, it’s so boring.” Instead of letting it go, Clay just looked at him expectantly as the waitress sat their drinks down, telling them that their meals would be out in a few minutes. “Fine. Um, it was a girl when I was sixteen. I liked her and I don’t think she really liked me back but we went to a dance together anyway. We danced together and stuff but mostly stood with our friends and didn’t speak. I kissed her when she was waiting for her Dad to pick her up. I don’t think we really talked much after that.” Clay brought his hand up to his mouth, trying not to crack a smile because it was actually a very boring and typical first kiss story. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not.” He was. “It’s just funny how different our stories are.”

“Well Mr. Nickelodeon hot tub, I’m sorry I couldn’t have been as creative as you.”

“Did she really not talk to you again?”

“I mean, she kind of did. I said hi to her in the hallway the next school day and she would respond but when I would text her, she’d never respond unless it was school related.”

“Yikes.”

“Indeed. I think my second kiss was a lot better because she actually became my girlfriend.” Clay nodded and took a sip of his Diet Coke. “And she actually liked me, so that was a major win.”

_ I like you, _ Clay thought but immediately sucked down a painful amount of Diet Coke to soothe the nerves of the thought. He felt his legs shake at the thought of  _ that _ conversation. His eyes, on instinct with the thought, looked at George’s mouth. He tried not to imagine how exactly it would feel to be the third person that he ever kissed.

“Wait,” He said, knowing it was for selfish reasons that dripped in guilt, but doing it anyway, just  _ curious _ .

At that moment, a different waitress came to their table with two plates of food, asking both of them about who ordered what. “Is there anything else I can get you?” She asked and they both shook their heads, Clay desperate to get back to the question at the tip of his tongue. She walked away with a small smile and when Clay looked at his food, his stomach growled.

“What were you going to say?”

The question made him feel suddenly very self-conscious and uncomfortable. He shouldn’t have even thought about it. It was so inappropriate to imagine George in the way he was, lips pressed against his own and fingers sliding across each other’s bodies. “Um, nevermind. I just noticed that I’m incredibly starving.”

George shrugged it off and immediately dug into his meal, leaving Clay to watch him in a longing and breathless atmosphere.

* * *

The next day George was woken up incredibly early. They had both slept in their respective rooms, but Clay made a point to tell George that if he wasn’t up and ready by 9am, he would put him on a flight home. Knowing his clear bluff, George woke up to a pillow to the face at 9:01am. “Wake up, you fuck. I have plans for us. If you’re not ready in like fifteen minutes, I’m doing them without you.”

“And what if I want to stay in bed all day?”

Clay shook his head at the boy, laying loosely (and shirtless but Clay chose pointedly to keep his eyes locked on George’s eyes) in the white sheets of the spare room’s bed. “Trust me, Georgie. Get up!”

Clay left and heard the shower running 10 minutes later and made his way to where he was holding his surprise. This was something that he had been planning since the moment that George booked his tickets, wanting so much to do something amazing and special for his best friend that had spent so much money and took so much time out of his life to visit. As far as he knew, there was no ulterior motive to doing this for George originally, but of course, now that he had admitted his own feelings to himself, he questioned if the gesture was too kind, maybe too important.

He shook his head at himself, knowing how dumb the excuses sounded in his head because friends did grander gestures for their friends all the time. Clay heard the shower stop and waited about another 10 minutes before calling out to George, ushering him into his office. “Hey George! Come here!” He called from the office, the room where his career online took off and where he bares no webcam. In his hand he held a thin but long blank box that he had been hiding in one of his drawers for about a month. He didn’t bother wrapping it, thinking that that would make it more… Clay wasn't sure. More intimate? Clay sighed again, pushing back down the thought of this being too much. 

George peaked into the room, the only light coming from the PC home screen, shining against the side of Clay’s face. From this angle, George could see that Clay’s drying blond hair fell just over his eyes and the blue glow of the screen accentuated the light and dark strands of blond as he got closer. George just saw a black box in his hand when Clay spun around, it held behind his back and out of George’s view. “What’s that?”

“Oh my god, George. Be patient,” he exasperated, not realizing that George had already been behind him. George stepped a whole foot away dramatically, broadcasting a wide smirk tickling his lips.

“Clay got Georgie a present.” He dragged out the last word longer than necessary, trying to eye what Clay was holding in his hands.

Clay was laughing now, sticking one hand out to keep George’s eager self away from him for a moment, still trying to come up with a script of what he wanted to say that didn’t make him sound as lovesick as he was. “Okay, okay. Yes, I have something for you. This is one part of it. Sit down.” He gestured towards the couch against the wall adjacent to his PC. George ogled the other boy, his smirk almost turning fond. “I did get you something but just let me speak first, okay?” George gave one nod as Clay sat down beside him, sucking his lips between his teeth to avoid any facial expressions that may discourage the man from continuing.

Clay revealed the box in his hand, a familiar box that George had seen somewhere before. “So, I was brainstorming a lot of what we could do while you were here. I know that this is Orlando and there’s a lot of touristy sites, but I mostly just wanted to show you where I was from, so it’s not like I planned for us to go to Disney World- although we can absolutely do that the next time you’re here- but-” He knew he was rambling now already straying from the script in his head. It wasn’t Java so he obviously couldn’t always be guided directly how he wanted. “But obviously, I want you to have an unforgettable time while you’re here and so,” Clay pushed into George’s personal space, his small hands reaching up and taking it. “Consider this part one.”

George looked up under his lashes at Clay, who was bowing his head so the dim lighting so his hair covered his expression. From the shape of the box, George began to shape an idea of what it was and lifted the cover, opening the top to reveal a long and skinny object resembling a stick. He looked back up at Clay again with his mouth open. “Clay-” George was shaking his head, his heart thumping under his own GeorgeNotFound shirt. He pulled the box closer to his eyes and kept repeating the back and forth glances between the wand in front of him and the man sitting next to him. “Clay, these are insanely expensive. Whose even is it?”

“It’s custom.”

George’s mouth fell further open. “Clay, you’re joking. A custom Harry Potter wand.”

“Do you remember when I sent you that Pottermore quiz? I figured you had taken it already but I needed the wand results so I could get it custom made for you.”

“You did this for me?”

“Of course I did.” George wanted to hug him tightly against his chest but he felt stuck in his spot, mesmerized by the graciousness that his best friend showed him constantly. Despite all the teasing and jokes that they always shared, Clay always pulled through with being one of the most thoughtful and kindest individuals that George had ever known. “But that was only part one.” George looked up, a furrowed brow forming above his eyes. Clay stood back up and marched to his desk again, opening the drawer and ruffling through various forms and important papers in different files. He found a folder entitled G - June/July and opened it, slipping out an envelope and extending it back towards George.

George took it hesitantly and slowly began opening the envelope, logically he knew what the second part of his gift would be but when he saw the printed out piece of paper inside, his surprise couldn’t have been more raw. “You’re fucking joking, Clay- We’re going to the Wizarding World? At Universal?” Clay nodded, having put money specifically aside for the trip as soon as George booked his ticket to come to America. 

“I researched the park a lot to figure out if they did customs on sight like they do at Galaxy’s Edge in Disney, but they only choose a few people and I didn’t want to risk you not having your own. But when we’re there, obviously, I’ll get you a custom one too if that ends up being possible. Or anything else you want.” George was shaking his head, mouth agape as Clay spoke.

“Clay, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I didn’t have to do anything for you George, but I wanted to. I know for a fact that you would’ve been completely content just staying inside and playing Minecraft the entire time you were here.” Clay was right. George would have been content in any way they spent their time together. He could have sat and watched Clay clean up Patches litter box (which George assumes will be happening soon) and been happy. Just as long as he was there. Clay continued, “I just figured the better of a time you have, then there’s more of a chance that you’ll want to come back.” George dropped his hands into his lap, staring at the order receipt that Clay had stuffed inside a white envelope and then leaned forward to wrap his arms around his best friend.

George felt tears prickling at the edges of his eyes but he held them back, wishing he could show Clay how much he appreciated everything that he had ever done for him. Over the course of their whole friendship, Clay had been there through absolutely everything and vice versa, calling Clay in the middle of the night just to chat after a hard day or the time that Clay’s parents fought and George had sat there on the phone with him listening in on the distant arguing just for support. It had always been so much of Clay and George against the world that George often forgot about the  _ world _ part. Sometimes he got so invested in his time with Clay that he would glance at the time and forget that he had other commitments to attend to that had then been long over with or sometimes zoning so far into Clay and his presence that he could barely hear the actual meaning of his words.

George tightened his grip around Clay, Clay’s own arms that had wrapped around his middle tightening in response, feeling every touch to such a point that George felt the callous on one of Clay’s middle fingers. “Even if there was a hurricane and we had to live like barbarians while I was here, I would still come back.”

“Well, that’s good to know, but we don’t have to live like barbarians. Grab your wallet, grab your wand, and let's hit the road.”

The ride to the park was short, only about 23 minutes from Clay’s house, but the traffic was insane. Considering they were going to a theme park under the scorching sun, it was definitely expected but George didn’t expect to be stuck in a car with Clay for another 15 minutes in unmoving traffic. Not that he didn’t know they were going to be this close to each other all day, but Clay had his windows rolled down which meant the sun reflecting off of his skin, and music playing from the speaker which meant any lyric that came from the car stereo, also floated beautifully off of Clay’s lips and George couldn’t stop staring. Luckily, in the unmoving traffic, Clay had his eyes shut, only ever opening them when George told him that the cars had moved. This gave George the chance to take in his appearance, a navy green t-shirt that he decided on because of him being a Slytherin, and a pair of khaki shorts, coming just above his knee. His skin was milky white, despite living in a sauna. The amount of times that George made fun of his inability to tan were too many to count, but watching him in the car gave George a new appreciation for the color. It reflected the sun beautifully and it made his heart race. The curve of his elbow and the slope of his nose both were enough to make George sweat. 

“Are you looking at me?”

The hair on the back of George’s neck stood up and he looked away, out the car window at all of the other vibrant colors on the still highway. “No,” he said, absolutely lying.

“You’re lying,” Clay sang before laughing and melting back into the song that was playing. George just shook his head and didn’t look back.

“Weirdo.”

* * *

George’s eyes lit up when the Hogwarts recreation popped into view along the cobbled road of the Diagon Alley set. He felt giddy, as if he were a child physically stepping inside of the movies. “This is insane,” He gawked spinning in a circle and taking in every aspect of the park that he could see. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ollivander’s and out of the other, he saw The Leaky Cauldron. Clay could only smile, not knowing as much about Harry Potter than his friend, but falling victim to the beauty that fell over him. The excitement made Clay happy, knowing that he was able to do this for George. “I don’t even know what to do first.”

“Let’s go to the bus first. Maybe grab a few photos before you sweat too much.” George smacked his arm but still led the way towards the Knight Bus. It was an interactive photo op, the driver standing with a wild grin that creeped Clay out, but hardly phased George.

Clay took a few shots of George posing ridiculously in the door of the bus, custom wand in hand, and next to the props when a photographer standing by asked them if they’d like a professional photo of both of them. Clay started to say no, not really thinking they needed one, but George looked at Clay in such a giddy way and nodded. He wasn’t able to deny that he would love a professional photo of the two of them resting on his mantle at home. She happily introduced herself as Isabelle and both men responded joyously with their own names.

“George, honey, stand on the first step of the bus and Clay, stay right there on the ground and put your arm around his waist.” In the position they were placed, George was standing just a few inches taller than Clay now which George inaudibly teased him for, sticking his tongue out and standing just a little bit taller with his tip toes before Clay squeezed his waist to knock him back. They both laughed and heard a few clicks of the camera. “Alright, how about let’s get a few of you both smiling right over here this time.” They both tore their gaze away from each other and naturally, George threw his arm over his shoulder. At this movement, Clay reached up and put his hand over his on an instinct. He hadn’t thought before he’d done it but something must have clicked in the photographer’s mind because after she took a photo, she looked out from the side of her camera and cleared her throat. “Could I have you both look at each other?” At the strange request, George and Clay turned their heads towards each other, George for once looking down at Clay.

George noticed how close they were first, never having been this close to Clay nor having seen the vague freckles that were woven through his skin under his eyes and the flecks of gold in his green eyes. He never knew how Clay looked before he flew 12 hours to see him, and he definitely never thought he would see him like this: So up close. George felt himself shifting to one foot, bringing him closer to Clay’s face, both of them staring at each other with a glimpse of the smile that they both had just seconds ago.

Clay noticed next, never realizing how sharp of a jawline that George harbored next to the baggy hoodies that he constantly wore. He didn’t realize just how dark his eyes were but in this sunlight, they shone so bright. This was a dangerous game that Isabelle was playing, putting them so close together, almost eye level, when she didn’t know how close he was to leaning- leaning close but he could somehow feel George’s breath on his lips and it felt so intoxicating and exhilarating that he almost just-

“Alright boys! They look beautiful. Can I just get an email to send these to?” It took both of them a moment to understand what had almost just happened, Clay suddenly realizing that he had been holding onto the back of George’s hand the entire time and  _ then _ realizing how Isabelle had decided on their poses. He felt his cheeks burn red as his hand removed itself from George’s waist and he immediately went to the woman to give her his personal email. Clay’s head was spinning, not because of the closeness or the hand hold but because he was just about to kiss George with absolutely no forethought and he thought that if Isabelle had taken just a moment longer, it would’ve happened. The heat definitely didn’t help but he felt like he was burning alive.

George walked up next to him, his wand poking out from his front pocket of his shorts. There was now a new tension but Clay was determined to pretend that nothing ever happened because nothing  _ did  _ happen. The photographer just thought they were a couple because of the reactionary hand thing and that was it. She misread it and that was it.

That was it.

They walked away from the bus in a silence, George looking anywhere but Clay and Clay racking his brain for something to say, finally coming up with, “I think she- uh- I think she thought we were dating.” He immediately regretted it, shutting his eyes and his brain repeating  _ stupid stupid stupid _ .

“Yeah, yeah. Weird.”

“Yeah.” Clay wanted to scream. He wanted the novelty bus prop to suddenly drive into his body so that he didn’t have to experience this one moment longer, but because he hates himself, he grabbed a shovel instead and dug. “It wasn’t a bad thing, really.” George glanced at him but they kept walking, neither sure where. “I mean, it’s weird that she- uh- thought we were a couple but I don’t know. The poses. I just- I guess I didn’t mind them. I kind of like being close to you.” George stopped walking at this and looked up at him.

“You do?”

“I mean,” Clay was panicking now, terrified because his inhibitions weren’t strong enough in that moment to stop him from speaking and now he can’t turn back and just like Isabelle, this was a dangerous game. “I- yeah. I’m affectionate. I just like- I like that stuff.”

They were in the way of a sea of people, but neither seemed to notice. Or care. George just looked around the park and then at Clay and said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” George shrugged, his heart racing a mile a minute and it felt like pins and needles were attacking it, holding it at gunpoint until he could regain control. He loved the feeling of Clay at his side and the way his hand held his waist and how he could smell the vague mint still on Clay’s breath. Clay hesitantly placed his hand on the small of George’s back. He held a questioning look, asking if the touch was okay. George felt like he was running. He felt like his legs were tired and aching and his throat closing up and the way his heart was racing, anyone would think that maybe he did just get back from a run. He nodded and Clay. “Do you want to grab lunch?”

* * *

Clay’s hand at the base of George’s back made his skin crawl. Not in a bad way where he wanted to pull away, but in a way that made him feel like everyone around them had disappeared completely and it was only them leaning against the wand case in front of them. The park employee stood in front of them in costume and a theatrical grin on their face. George was overly aware of Clay’s thumb rubbing small paths up and down where his hand rested and could only pretend to look at all the wands that were in front of them while the employee spoke about them.

Clay was leaning over the case, pressing into George’s side, taking full advantage of their silent understanding of affection, when someone threw open the door and bounded past them. It was a little kid and their parent searching for a bathroom and the child had a nervous energy about them and Clay knew that if they didn’t go to the bathroom immediately, they were going to have issues in the shop. The surprise and urgency knocked George further against the blond but as soon as he practically collapsed into Clay, he stood himself up straighter and took a step away. “Sorry,” George muttered and went back to look at the case, this time a pace away from the man that made me feel more than he ever wanted to. 

Clay desperately tried not to notice the way George shied away from him, so he looked at the employee with a smile and then at George. “Do you want to come back here? You seem out of it.” George sighed.

“I’m okay. I just don’t know what I want.” Despite feeling overwhelmed by the feelings in his stomach and his brain telling him to distance himself, his instinctive reaction was to flirt with him, how they normally would tease each other over the phone or online. George stepped back to where he had been and said, “I think it’s hard to find one that could live up to the one you got me.” Clay’s lips quirked up into a smirk and shook his head, grabbing George’s shoulders and turning him towards the exit.

“Let’s go, doofus. I can always buy another one off the internet. We need to try butterbeer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> : )
> 
> i dont know much about harry potter so that's why the end is a bit rushed!
> 
> the last two chapters should be out vvvvv soon <3 chapter 2 was the only one i was struggling with writing and the others are already done! thank you for reading <3
> 
> (and for the love of god, stream roadtrip by dream ft pmbata)


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